


Truth Called You Out

by Goldmallow



Series: Big empty shape, living water [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd-centric, Protective Jason Todd, Sickfic, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake-centric, no bakeries were harmed in the creation of this fic, no beta we die like robins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:14:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28203669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldmallow/pseuds/Goldmallow
Summary: Replacement was going to owe him big.
Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne (mentioned), Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Series: Big empty shape, living water [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2023963
Comments: 20
Kudos: 330





	Truth Called You Out

Jason sticks the small plastic straw into his coffee cup and stirs it while eyeing the kid in front of him with a calculating gaze.

Tim, Red Robin, Replacement, whatever you wanted to call him, is sitting at their blue cafe table with a vacant but serious look on his pale face as he stares at his avocado toast.

Jason sips his coffee.

When the kid’s breathing picks up a bit after a car honks outside, mouth tightening, Jason squints his eyes and decides this has gone on long enough.

He sets down his cup of joe, flat. “Oi. Egghead. Look alive.”

Now normally, the brisk command would have invoked an annoyed glance. This time, however, the ex-robin just closes his eyes and _flinches_ , swallowing convulsively. He looks like he was focusing all of his energy on just staying upright.

Jason frowns. What?

“Hey. What’s wrong with you?” He accuses, leaning over the table. They were here to have a post-mission brunch, celebrating getting Harley Quinn off the streets for the foreseeable future. They were out all night and both were dead on their feet but they had wanted some hot grub. 

They had eaten and everything was normal...until the other started suddenly spacing out. It was seriously killing Jason’s vibe.

Tim’s shoulders raise up a bit, mouth tightening, but his eyes open up again. “Nothing.” He eventually gives. He looks pale and...is breathing very carefully.

Jason is now certifiably freaking out. 

He looks around the restaurant, looking for anything suspicious inside or outside the establishment, not seeing anything bad. Then his eyes roam over his companions body, looking for anything untoward or foreign on his skin that would explain his weird behavior. He sees nothing obvious.

He shoots up, noise of the cafe masking his movements as he towers over the kid, who has clenched his hands into tight white fists.“Tim? Tim. Earth to Tim. Work with me here. What’s going on?” Was the kid exposed to something? Was he hurt?

He snaps his fingers in front of his nose.

That certainly gets a reaction.

Tim raises one hand and shields it over his eyes and temples, groaning, while the other moves to grip the sidebar of his chair.

That gets Jason's attention.

“Replacement?” He looks around, one more time, not seeing anything shady. The kid was clearly in pain. Now, Jason wasn’t sure what was going on, but he’s had enough mental bad days to know about sensory overdrive, so without thinking he lifts up his hands and cups the kids ears.

They both stay completely still like that for a few blissful but awkward seconds, till Tim’s hand slowly starts to unclench the death grip he has on the chair, to raise up and smother the rest of his face. He speaks so softly that Jason almost doesn’t hear it.

“Migraine.” 

It’s muffled against his hands, shaky and curt, but Jason doesn’t need anymore than that.

A migraine. Of course. Did the kid get those? Crap.

How long has he had the headache for it to get to this point? Without telling anyone? Did he come here already experiencing it? 

Jason frowns. “Right. I’m getting you out of here.” 

It’s sunny and noisy inside the cafe. He honestly doesn’t know how the kid’s managing. They weren’t by a window seat, but most of the establishment was full of them, and it being Saturday meant the hub was poppin’ with customers. 

He takes out his wallet and throws down enough cash, and takes a second to map out their escape route, while Tim slowly lowers his head onto the table pillowed under his arms, looking pathetically miserable, obviously giving up the charade. Jason takes off his leather jacket that has seen better days, and drops it over the kids head.

Thoughts racing, Jason recalls that they both drove their cycles to the cafe...Definitely not a vehicle of transportation that was good for someone in the kid’s state, so he pauses to think.

Dick was in Blüdhaven, and the Demon brat was in Kansas. Not like he’d want to help anyway. 

Blondie was in class, and Cass wasn’t even in the country.

Which left only one real option.

“Geez. You owe me, kid.” He gripes.

Peeved, but determined, Jason takes out his battered cell and flicks through his apps till he comes across the secret contact.

Replacement was going to owe him big.

He texts out their address, and a brief explanation that could be summed up in a few crass words, and pockets the device with a grunt. That wasn’t something he was ever proud to do. But the situation was a bit unorthodox.

Jason rubs the kids back while they wait, keeping silent and unobtrusive as possible. That is until the smaller of the two spasms a bit and says, woefully in a muffled voice, “I’m going to be sick.” And warning bells go off in Jason’s head.

Right.

He doesn’t waste any time picking up the rigid body and kicking down the bathroom door with one foot, and shoving the kid’s head over the porcelain deity.

It was a single family stall, so there was room for Jason to pace and curse under his breath, as the kid wretchedly lost his lunch. Why the situation made him so antsy, he had no idea. The fluorescent lights overhead make the kid moan in displeasure, so those get quickly turned off.

His leather jacket was ditched at their table so Jason just kneels down without it as a barrier, continuing to rub the other’s back and sighing in resignation as he does so. The kid’s face was pale, brows furrowed from the agony in his head, and Jason feels his heart constrict when he mutters out an unnecessary apology in between gags.

“M’sorry.”

Geez. “Don't apologize.” Jason mutters back darkly, continuing his ministrations. “Just...Take it easy.”

Not ten minutes later, his cell dings in his pocket and Tim makes a pitiful sound at the noise, a bit out of it, as he burrows further into his arms. Jason checks his phone to see the questioning response about their location, and he types back obediently. Five seconds later, the door opens and in walks their saving grace wearing Ralph Lauren. 

Bruce would argue and say he was wearing his ‘lounge around the house’ clothes, but they were still expensive enough to buy a yacht. He must have waded through the cluster of people surrounding the door like a shadow to make it here unnoticed.

“Boys,” Bruce addresses when he enters their little corner of paradise. Jason meets his eyes and they communicate silently for a beat, till the older man’s eyes panel down to the pathetic body kneeling on the floor. His eyes fill with worry as he steps closer. “Tim?”

“Mhmm.” Was the only reply he got from the mound. 

Jason continues rubbing his back, still kneeling on the dirty tiled floor. “You bring a stretcher?” He asks cheekily, but he isn’t smiling.

Bruce looks at him, not bothering to answer that, as he kneels down next to Jason and puts his hand on Tim’s shoulder. “Tim? How are you feeling?”

The teen doesn’t say anything, just moans and keeps perfectly still. It was obvious in his stiff posture that he was hurting and trying to block everything out. Bruce isn’t deterred. 

“I was on my way home from Selina’s so I wasn’t able to grab any Sumatriptan from the manor. We’re going to have to carry you to the car, okay?”

Jason doesn’t voice his complaint at the word ‘we’, just gives his old mentor an unimpressed look while Tim somehow manages to nod.

“Okay, champ.” Bruce acknowledges, soft. 

Tim makes a muffled noise.

“Uh not to be the bearer of bad news or anything, this time, but how exactly are you planning on high-tailing it out of this joint?” Jason mutters to the other man. “You had to ‘make like a ninja to even get in here.” 

“A distraction.” Bruce answers vaguely, sliding out a pair of earmuffs and setting them over Tim’s ears just as the siren of the bakery next door goes off. Jason has a second to clue in what was going on, as he opens the door to see all of the customers flock over to the windows, gawking shamelessly.

“You staged a robbery.” Jason remarks, actually surprised and impressed, and maybe a bit delighted.

“ _I_ didn’t stage a robbery.” Bruce counteracts, gently sliding his hands under his previous cargo and lifting him up in one go as he stands. Jason snags his jacket from their table and helps keep it over the poor kid’s head to block out light, as they walk around the commotion and out the door. 

Alfred is there, opening the back door of the black Bentley (Wow, ostentatious, much?) for them, just as Jason looks over at the bakery and sees a familiar tail whip over the roof of the building. 

He slides in after the two, helping Bruce rearrange Tim comfortably so he is sitting sideways in the man’s lap, head laid against his father’s clavicle and legs curled up to his stomach. The car begins to hum and drive away.

Jason whips around to stare out the car rear window, watching the fiasco they were leaving behind with a small smirk. “I can’t believe you made your girlfriend commit a white collar crime to help you stage a getaway.”

Bruce winds his arms up to hold his younger son to his chest, mouth thinning. “It’s funny you think I can make Selina do anything.” He replies back.

Jason just huffs in amusement.

Tim unwillingly lets out noises of grief as the car rolls by, trying to stay as still as possible, which makes Jason look over in worry, not that he’ll admit it. Bruce just combs his hands through his hair and murmurs platitudes, even though he can’t hear it over the earmuffs.

“ _It’s okay Tim. We’re almost there.”_

Jason frowns.

When they pull up to the manor, Bruce speaks up squarely to his other son who was inconspicuously sliding out of his seat. “Jason.” He asks. “Will you help bring back the medicine?” 

Jason wants to dismiss the proposal with a crude remark and get out of there as soon as possible, suggesting Alfred do it, but looks over to see how truly dismal and ill his pseudo-baby brother looks, face set in anguish with black strands of hair falling over his face, and folds like a cheap suit. 

He nods and gets out of the town car, listening to Bruce’s instructions on where to go to find and bring back the Sumatriptan. Now, the thing is, although Jason is back with the family so to speak, he still likes to limit his exposure to the batcave and their secret identity’s patrol routes _only_. Cutting through the manor to make it to the main floor bathroom where the closest medicine stock was, wasn’t something Jason had on his bucket list.

But remembering how awful Tim had looked at the cafe, made him push onward. The little bat was counting on him.

He finds both the pills and pen in the top cupboard, then circles back to the vehicle. He bends over to reach inside the open door to hand over the pre-filled auto-injector and rubbing alcohol wipe with a grim face, the other hand holding the pills. “Here.”

Bruce wordlessly just uses the arm not propping up Tim, to pull out a knife from his ankle sheath and cut open his son’s left pant leg, exposing the bare skin.

Up close, Jason can hear the kid’s muffled crying, face buried in his father’s shoulder. He wasn’t doing that a moment ago.

“I can’t get a good angle from my position.” Bruce says in a sotto voice to Jason, eyeing the pen as he gently rocks the body in his hold. “You’re going to have to do it.”

Jason grows still for just a moment, looking at his estranged father figure with strong intensity. “What?”

“He needs the injection. It’s too late for the pill to be effective. His migraine is getting worse.” Bruce relays evenly, and calmly. Just like Batman. The gun-slinging vigilante feels himself recoil on principle.

...But he stops, because if there’s one thing the bats were trained to do, it was compartmentalize. 

The sooner he injects the Sumatriptan, the better off Tim will be. Jason’s not selfish enough to deny him that. Even if it means obeying his old mentor's orders. He nods and doesn’t wait for any other instruction. They were all trained on basic first aid. He saddles into the car and rips open the rubbing alcohol wipe and swabs down a small area then uncaps the pen.

Bruce does his part on keeping Tim still as much as possible, and Jason cleanly plunges and clicks the pen into his brother’s thigh. 

Bruce tells him that the medication takes ten to fifteen minutes to work, so they both wait in mutual grave silence, minutes passing, as the teen slowly starts to stop rocking and his muscles start to relax in growing relief. He stops crying. It looks like the medicine was working. 

Bruce continues to slightly sway, brushing his hand through the kid’s black locks, till Tim exhales shakily and his breathing evens out to something more lax and easy. He slowly moves his head to the side after a minute, and he peaks open an eye to see Jason.

He gives the older man a shaky, sheepish smile, as he says quietly, “Sorry for ruining brunch.”

Jason didn’t realize he was still gripping the auto-injector with a tight fist, till he hears the plastic squeak. He sighs heavily, and tosses the pen onto the car floor, ignoring Bruce’s testy look.

“Judas Priest, kid,” He gets out, leaning back against the leather seats to rest his head. He runs a hand through his own inky tufts of hair and exhales, long and hard. “No apologies necessary.”

Crisis averted.

They all three wait there for a few more moments, till Tim wipes away his tears and tells them he’s fine walking now, and gets out of the car on baby deer legs, ears still covered by the earmuffs. He leans against Jason who gladly takes his weight, as they all trek up the Manors steps and make their way to the kid’s bedroom. 

“Thanks Jason,” Tim tells him as soon as he’s sitting down on his duvet, sweatpants on and shoes off. He looks ready to fall asleep. “For helping me.”

Jason grunts but doesn’t say anything demeaning as he watches his little brother get under the covers and lay down. Jason finally feels himself relax.

“Don’t mention it, kid.” He remarks, before flipping off the light and closing the door behind him as he says, not fond in the slightest. “Just remember that you’re paying next time we eat out. Rich boy.”

He hears Tim muffle a laugh as he leaves to head down to the manor’s kitchen, feeling unfairly lighter for it. 

...Well, since he’s here, Jason might as well stick around and have a small sandwich before he goes to sleep, he reasons...and maybe visit Alfred for a little bit too.

His didn’t get to finish his brunch, after all.

  
  
  
  


The end.

**Author's Note:**

> Somehow this became more about Jason than Tim. I apologize. Also, notice how Jason referred to Tim in different names till the end when he calls him his brother? Character growth.
> 
> Jason: what is...this...foreign feeling...inside of me?...
> 
> Tim: It’s called concern.
> 
> Bruce: Love.
> 
> Jason, already trying to escape out the window: noted. I hate it. Goodbye.
> 
> Tim: jason I’m getting a headache again :(
> 
> Jason, already climbing back in: do you need a pillow..?


End file.
